


Externalizing

by Client327



Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Language, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Client327/pseuds/Client327
Summary: Logan is perfect. Is her perfect for Sydney? Magic, comedy, and shenanigans will abound.
Relationships: Colt Kaneko/Main Character (Ride or Die), Logan/Main Character (Ride or Die)
Kudos: 2





	Externalizing

**Author's Note:**

> PB owns all this, and me. I don’t even know what to tell you. This is so wildly AU. My first wildly AU! Stay with me here because I actually know where this one is going!

Sydney ran her long, delicate fingers over the brim of an old bowler hat that sat askew on top of a porcelain bust. Her mind was anywhere but in the present as the felt-y texture of the fabric brought up hazy memories of her mother’s favorite blouse clutched tightly in her fist during a storm when she was just a little girl. That seemed so long ago.

“Earth to Sydney. Hello.” Her best friend Riya was waving her hand slowly back and forth in front of her face. 

She shook her head slightly, blinking the memory out of her eyes. It was a tradition for Riya to take Sydney to West End Antiques, their favorite vintage store, for her to pick out her birthday gift every year. They had found countless treasures among the trinkets and collectibles throughout the year and always joked about how whatever Sydney picked would set the tone for how her whole year would go.

Sometimes it was accurate, like her birthday senior year of high school where Sydney picked a Langston University sweater from the rack of collegiate throwback clothes and was accepted into the very same university later that year. Other times it was a complete miss and the two would laugh about it as the year came to a close. Regardless of the outcome, it was something they always enjoyed doing together, and since Sydney’s birthday landed in the summer time, her studies on the east coast never kept them from continuing the tradition. 

This year was particularly significant for her because it marked the end of her time at Langston. She would be starting her last year of undergraduate studies in the fall and would get to finally relax and start reaping the benefits of all the hard work that she had put in. She wasn’t a particularly superstitious person, but thought that the extra good voodoo couldn’t hurt. So she was taking extra care in picking out her gift for the year.

“Anything catch your eye?” Riya’s eyes darted around to the eclectic arrangements around them. 

“Not yet, but we’ve only been here for…” She checked her watch quickly. “One hour. Oh my God! How have we been here for an hour already?”

It was a large store and oftentimes they found themselves losing several hours among the previously loved knickknacks, but they were on somewhat of a timeline today after having made reservations at one of the hottest restaurants in LA to celebrate. 

“Right?! I think there is better stuff in here now than there has ever been.” Riya picked up the earpiece to an old rotary phone and held it to her ear before placing it back on the ornate receiver. 

“I’m close to finding something, though. I can feel it.” Sydney laughed, but it was the truth. She could feel anticipation building inside of her, growing more intense with every step that she took further into the store. 

They spent another fifteen minutes of so perusing the shelves before something tucked away on a tall shelf caught her attention. She reached for it on her tiptoes, not even managing to graze the shelving in her attempt. An antique ottoman stood to her left that she thought might do the job. She dragged it underneath the shelf and took a cautious step up onto it, hoping that it was study enough to hold her weight.

With arms stretched to the side for balance, she took a moment for the squeaky, wobbly legs of the ottoman to settle underneath her then stood straight to claim her target. She could easily reach it now, fingers clasped firmly around the bright yellow, leather bound book. Sydney pulled it free from the surrounding books, and sat swiftly on the ottoman, not wanting to test it’s endurance. 

There were intricate black designs scrawled into the leather that felt like they were hypnotizing her with their swirling patterns. It was beautiful. She flipped the cover open and leafed through the pages to find page after page of blank lines. It was a journal that no one had ever found the time to fill with stories of drama, wishes, hopes, or dreams. Maybe it was waiting for her. 

“Did you find something?” Riya’s cheery voice came from just behind her ear causing her to jump.

“Don’t do that! You know I scare easily!” She squealed as she worked to regain command of her heart rate. 

Riya rolled her eyes before gesturing at the book, “Is this the one?” 

“I think it is.” Sydney looked back to the book in her hands feeling drawn not it by some invisible force. “I know it is.”

The pair took the book along with a few other non-birthday-related ideas back to the front of the store where the familiar face of the shop owner waited for them at the register. 

“Find anything interesting, Ladies?” His painfully monotonous voice always made them giggle, reminding them of the guy from the Clear Eyes commercials. 

They piled their findings on the counter in response. The clerk began ringing up the tags on each individual item until he finally got to the yellow journal. 

“Do you know anything about this book?” Sydney asked, feeling an urgent need to know more about it. 

A hum of contemplation rumbled past his lips as he turned it over in his hands, “I do remember this one. A very odd, older lady brought it in to sell a few months ago. From Westchester, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Sydney simply nodded in response as their transaction was completed and they headed back out to Riya’s car. Sydney had yet learned how to drive and was tempted to give it a try every summer when she came back to visit, but never got around to it. She could get everywhere she needed to go via public transportation at Langston.

***

Later that evening, the pair met up with Riya’s boyfriend Darius at LA’s poshest new restaurant. It had been something of a miracle that their position on the wait list had lines up perfectly with the week of Sydney’s birthday, but they were never one’s to question their luck. Riya greeted Darius with a passionate kiss as always, the years that they spent dating had done nothing to dull the intensity of the love they had for each other. 

Sydney never quite felt like a third wheel, but she was always in awe of and in envy of the love they had for each other. She had hoped that she would find something similar by the time she was at this point in her life. It just hadn’t been in the cards. 

Once they were seated and had their orders taken they fell into comfortable conversation that you only find with friends that know you at your heart of hearts. 

“So what was your pick this year, Sydney?” Darius inquired about this year’s birthday gift. 

Sydney dug around in her purse until the journal broke free of all the unnecessary things that took up space in her bag. She held it out to him, and immediately missed its presence when he took it from her hands. 

“Oh, nice. Good find.” He turned the book over in his hands a few times before passing it back to her. “Are you going to christen it as your diary” 

Sydney laughed at the prospect of journaling about her mundane life of going to classes and working her internship, “I’m not sure yet. There was just something about it..”

Riya and Darius both nodded in agreement before Riya responded, “There is. There’s just something about it that feels so right. And powerful? Is that weird?” She laughed, already feeling the effects of the one glass of wine she was halfway through. 

Darius reached for her hand that was resting on the table and rubbed it gently as he nodded, “No, I feel that too. It definitely has a storied past. I can tell.”

Sydney laughed again, “I don’t know about all that. It is a beautiful journal, though.” She tucked it back into her purse, feeling more protective of it than was probably merited.

“Where did that guy say it was from?” Riya knit her eyebrows together trying to remember.

Sydney drummed her fingernails against the table, face scrunched up in concentration, “West something?”

Darius perked up suddenly, “Westchester?”

“That’s it!” Both women chimed in at the same time.

“Isn’t that where all those kids died a few years ago?”

Riya reached over and smacked Darius on the arm, “God, Dar. Way to ruin her present.”

But the revelation faded away soon enough amidst lively conversation about school, family, and summer plans. Riya gushed about the romantic trip up the coast that she and Darius had planned in the coming weeks, and Sydney suddenly felt a little out of place in between their love-laced glances and intertwined fingers.

Their relationship had always been this pillar of possibility to Sydney, a symbol of the love that she was waiting on for her own life. It had always been something that brought her joy to think about until recently. She was coming up on the end of her college experience and only had a few mildly successful dates to account for. The easy excuse for this, the one she used most frequently, was that she was too busy and too focused on her studies to start a relationship with anyone right now. The real excuse, the one that she would only admit when she was alone in the late night hours, was that she was afraid. Afraid to trust anyone that deeply, afraid to give away a piece of herself, afraid of being hurt, and afraid of trying and failing. 

***

Late that night, Sydney tossed and turned in her childhood bed trying to get reaquainted with the too soft mattress and posters of boy bands that were seemingly staring right at her at all times. Resigning to defeat, she threw off the covers and padded out to the kitchen in hopes that a drink of water would help. She reread the note stuck to the refrigerator door that her dad had left for her as she waited for her glass to fill. It was all standard procedure, “lock up if you leave”, “I’ll be home in the morning”, “help yourself to anything”, and “love, Dad.” 

When she made her way back to her bedroom, she was, perhaps, more awake now than she was before. She pulled out her desk chair and sank down into it feeling exhausted and frustrated. She picked up the first book that was within reach and flipped through it, stopping on a page that had been dog-eared long ago. A smile eased its way onto her face as she thought back to the sleepover that she and Riya spent pouring over this chapter. It was during Riya’s “spiritual” phase, and she insisted that they try a technique of writing their dreams and ambitions into fruition. She laughed remembering how they wrote late into the night about dating the quarterback, getting pink highlights in their hair, and driving fancy cars.

Mockery soon faded into curiosity and, before she knew it, she was several chapters deep and going. It might have been the sleep deprivation, the odd influence of being in her childhood home, or a combination of both, but suddenly she felt compelled to give it a try. She glanced around briefly looking for some paper to write on while chastising herself for entertaining the idea. Her eyes settled onto the yellow journal peeking out from the top of her bag and thought that this would be as good of a use for it as any. It’s not like I’m going to write masterpieces in it anyway. 

She flipped the cover open to the first page and searched through the desk drawers until she found a pen that would work among the countless dried up ones. The pages felt warm under her hand and she put pen to paper. Almost too warm. It only took her a moment to decide on what she wanted to attempt to “write into existence” and to “manifest it”. Sydney was tired of being alone, tired of being a third wheel, and tired of that look in her dad’s eyes every time she told him that she had, in fact, not met a nice boy at school yet. 

She began to write, the words flowing more freely than she anticipated. So much so, that she felt like it was barely her doing the writing at all. Page after page began to get filled with her daydream-esq scenario for meeting and dating the perfect guy. 

Of course looks would be a factor. She thought to herself as she began describing in detail the exact brown shade of his eyes and the way his chestnut color hair would curl in waves around his face and against his neck. His image was crystal clear in her mind. He had an extremely toned body, equipped with six pack, naturally, and was definitely over six foot tall. She stopped for a moment and willed herself to feel guilty for being so shallow, but couldn’t manage it at the moment. 

She wrote about their meet cute story that they would tell for years and years to come, about how they bumped into each other clumsily at a party that Sydney didn’t want to attend in the first place, spilling her cocktail all over his shirt. They would, obviously, then steal away to the kitchen to clean up the mess and end up spending hours talking about anything and everything while the party continues on without them. 

Oh and his car! He has to drive a sexy sports car. She didn’t know why, but this was her fantasy so who cares. Right? She wrote well into the night and into the early morning hours, not stopping until the sound of her dad’s keys in the front door rattled her from her trance. She cringed at the thought of having lost her whole nights sleep to this drivel, and knew she was going to be kicking herself the next day. But it had been somewhat cathartic and at the very least fun. 

Hiding the journal into the deepest recesses of her purse, as to never be seen by another living soul, she decided to call it a night and collapsed onto the bed. She would catch up with her dad when she had more sleep to run off of. 

***

The next week was a flurry of “let’s catch up over coffee” hangouts with old classmates and nostalgic movie marathons with Riya and Darius. If felt odd every summer to be back in LA and back in old habits. In a lot of ways it made her feel like she never left, or worse, that she hadn’t really grown or changed at all in the past three years. 

“You brought something to change into didn’t you?” Riya asked, eyeing her up and down in between Reservoir Dogs and Death Proof in their Tarantino movie marathon.

Sydney looked between her and Darius confused, “No? Was I supposed to?”

“Sydney! We talked about this. We’re all going to Brent’s yearly ‘I’m still richer than all of you’ party.”

“Ugh! Do we have to?? We don’t even like Brent. He is such an asshole.” She flopped over dramatically on the couch.

“But we have never gotten an invite before, and I’m dying to see all his pretty things!” It was on Riya’s bucket list to score invitations to the illustrious part every year and Darius had somehow managed to get them on the list this time. Probably by mistake.

“Fine, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

***

A few hours later, the trio stepped out of their Dryve and through the iron gates that led to the mansion. Sydney tugged self-consciously at the hem of her lacy, black dress, finding that it didn’t quite fit her the way it fit Riya. 

Riya reached out and smacked her hand, “Stop messing with it. You look hot!” 

“Yeah, well I feel like I’m going to fall out of this thing in several different places.” She turned her attention to balancing on the sky high heels that “simply had to accompany the dress” as they walked up to the entrance. 

The party really wasn’t as bad as Sydney thought it was going to be, mostly because, just like in high school, most people were ignoring her and her friends. This left them free to wander around, touch things they shouldn’t, and google the price of every expensive looking thing they found. It was actually turning out to be pretty fun.

“Ri! It’s our song,” Darius exclaimed as he grabbed her hand and started leading her to the dance floor. Riya mouthed an apology to Sydney for leaving her solo, but she really didn’t mind. It was just one song, and she needed to refill her cup anyway. The walk to the open bar felt like an eternity by the time she fought her way through the mobs of people between the dance floor and here. This party was definitely a fire hazard. Standing still in line drew attention to just how sore her feet were getting in these shoes and her overall party endurance was quickly waning. 

The hired help behind the bar quickly mixed her another vodka with cranberry juice and moved on to the next person in line never catching a break with the sheer amount of people at this party. She started the arduous task of fighting back to her original spot to wait for Riya and Darius, and hopefully make their great escape. Sydney was about halfway there when she tripped on an abandoned…shoe(?) in the middle of the throng of people. She struggled to stay up right, a battle she lost as soon as someone turned abruptly towards her spilling her drink all over them and knocking her down in the process.

“Oh, shit are you ok?” the man stretched his hand out to help her off the ground.

Sydney tried to stand as modestly as humanly possible in the tiny dress, but just knew that she had flashed at least a handful of people, “I’m fine. It’s just my ego.” She tried for an embarrassed smile, but stopped abruptly when her eyes met the man’s brown eyes. 

“Oh my God, it’s you.” She reached out and touched his face, quickly withdrawing it when she remembered that that was a weird thing to do. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you? I think I would remember you if I did.” His eyes traveled slowly down her body, taking in her dress, and back up again before flashing a bright smile at her. His hair curled around his facial features exactly how she imagined it would, and she suddenly felt like passing out.

I must have hit my head. I’m probably knocked out on the floor with my ass out, surrounded by people in real life, and this is just a concussion dream. She tried to make sense of this situation. The man in front of her was exactly everything she imagined while sitting in her room a week ago. This can’t be happening. Sydney dropped her gaze when she realized that she had been staring only to notice his shirt covered in red cranberry juice stains from her drink.

“I’m really sorry about your shirt. That’s probably going to leave a stain.” She half-heartedly gestured towards the wet shirt clinging to what she was certain were perfect abs.

“I’m not worried about it. It probably just needs a quick rinse.” His amused expression from earlier had morphed into one of concern, probably from the face touching. 

She swallowed hard at the intensity of his gaze, “There, uh, is a kitchen over there. I can help you. I mean to try and make it up to you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth seemingly of their own accord. Oh my God! What are you doing Sydney?! This is crazy. 

The man gestured for her to lead the way, the smile had returned to his face. Sydney turned and started walking towards the kitchen, fully expecting to wake up any minute now. Any minute now. She looked behind her briefly to make sure he was still following (or still existing) to find the man she thought up in a sleep deprived stupor in her childhood bedroom trailing closely behind her, eyes fixed on her body.


End file.
